


Goodbye Kisses

by Davechicken



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 08:57:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8884822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Before a mission.





	

She doesn’t want him to go, but they both know he has to. It’s getting increasingly difficult to let go of him, and she never thought anything would come before her duties. Their helmets sit side-by-side on the table, ready to be collected for the world outside. She is in her armour, and he in his. 

The only thing - bar the helmets - that they do not wear are their gloves. Their bare hands hold onto one another, and she savours the heat he puts out. He’s always very warm, and so nice to curl into. Her bed has never been the same without him, not since he first climbed in and stayed.

“You come back to me safely,” she tells him, her eyes reading his face from left to right and back again. 

“I wouldn’t go unless I had to.”

Her tongue pushes her lips from her teeth, tasting the recycled air. His thumb glides against the soft space between fingers and thumb, and her eyes go hazy at the promise. She’s still nicely tingling from before, and she knows when he comes back… oh, the reunions are the only good part of being separated. 

In she leans, telegraphing her intent. A slide of her nose to his, and then alongside it, until her face tilts and their lips graze. Electric-soft, and she opens to play with his mouth, strumming his lips like the strings of a mandoviol. His left hand moves to clutch her hip, and her right (now free), knots into his hair. She keeps him still, and pulls his mouth wider, chasing the deep stones of his teeth. 

It’s a good job they’ve already spent themselves (and she wonders if - even after the soak and sponge bath below - there’s still traces of her inside her walls and womb), or else this might provoke him into being late. Her tongue drags at his mouth, and she moans as he suckles on hers, his fingers pinching her closer still. Phasma presses into his belly, pushing past his suction to slice across his tongue, to taste his mouth deeply, then draws back when air is an urgent space in her lungs needing to be filled.

“I love you,” she says, as he sways under the onslaught. “Hurry back, love.”

“I will.”

With difficulty, she lets him go. It’s already too long apart, and he hasn’t even left.


End file.
